The many Secrets of John Watson
by and.why.the.hell.not
Summary: A collection of short stories about secrets of John that are revealed to Sherlock. Most of these stories are based on headcanons that can be found on the internet. Planned is BAMF!John but also deeply emotional friendship. The collection will include Soldier!John, Pashto speaking John, piano playing John, probably the scar and PTSD. I am open for every fresh idea.
1. Pashto

**Pashto**

Sherlock and John had been working on one and the same case for weeks. A young woman had been killed and the only suspect of the police had vanished before anybody had been able to question him. It turned out to be extremely sophisticated to find this young man who had a very odd and unfamiliar accent according to witnesses. The eye-witnesses also described that the man was walking awkwardly as if he was drunk or as if his leg was broken. Sherlock found the case was boring before but the search for the abnormal man woke great interest in him. After weeks of research and contact with the homeless network they eventually got a hit.

"We found him!" Sherlock shouted when he came running into the living room of 221B Baker Street. John nearly choked on his tea.

"Get your gun, we have a suspect to catch. The cub is waiting outside." Sherlock added while grabbed his coat and his scarf – it was getting cold and dark outside. John stood up, put his cup in the sink and grabbed his gun. He looked outside the window and then grabbed his flashlight as well.

In the cab Sherlock explained what had happened.

"One of the homeless network has seen a man in an abandoned building near the crime scene. He was tall, thin and had spoken in a strange language that nobody understood and it seems that he lives there. He limps, too. It _must_ be him!" Sherlock had been jittery all the time while they were looking for this man and John really hoped that this was the right man because he really wasn´t looking forward to force feed Sherlock. All conviction aside the human body needs food and sleep from time to time.

The cab pulled up and they stepped on the street. Sherlock and John were standing only a few feet away of a house – or more precisely a ruin of a house. It was dark and someone had closed the windows with wooden beams. Half of the ceiling must have been broken away by a storm and a big yellow sign warned every passenger on the street to not enter the building because of the danger of collapse. Somebody had opened the wires in the bottom left corner of the fence which was circling the whole building. Sherlock held it open and sneaked through the whole after John had crawled inside. The beams at one window were open and they entered the building.

"Considering the condition of the ceiling I would assume that our man is hiding in the basement" Sherlock whispered and turned his flashlight on. They found the stairs to the basement after a few minutes of searching and Sherlock started going down.

"Wait!" John whispered emphatically. He lifted his gun and held the flashlight under the barrel. He stepped in front of Sherlock and together the went down. John glimpsed around the corner with the gun still in front of him. They were in an empty floor. At the end of the floor was a door to the next room. They approached it.

"Open it on three..two...one" Sherlock opened the door and John moved in and scanned the room. A man jumped off the bed he had been lying on and lifted a gun at John.

"Hey, I wouldn´t do that if I were you!" John shouted with the gun pointed at the man´s had. Sherlock took a step into the room to see the suspect properly and suddenly the figure shivered and screamed

"ودروي او يا زه به ووژني"

Sherlock was alarmed immediately. He was frozen where he stood and his mind was going head over heals to find out what kind of language that was. It sounded arabic but he had deleted much of what he had known about languages years ago because English was the most common language after all. Before he could react in any way to what just had happened John´s eyes widened and he let the gun in his hands sink down slightly. He loosened the grip of his left hand and held it in front of him showing that he didn´t want to hurt the man.

"ټول ښ" Sherlock looked at John and frowned. _Where did that come from?_ He thought to himself looked over to the other man and noticed that he was looking at John now in disbelief and wonder. He lowered the gun and said

"ته وک یې؟" It sounded like a question and John let the gun sink to his side looking at the man in concern.

"My name is John Watson and this is my friend Sherlock Holmes." he answered pointed at Sherlock with the flashlight . Sherlock covered his eyes from the bright light and glared at John.

"Where did you learn Pashto?" he asked and John stepped closer to him so he wouldn´t have to scream over to the man. _Pashto_ Sherlock thought and waited for John´s answer.

"I was in Afghanistan for three years. Army doctor in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers" Sherlock looked at John and saw the sadness in his eyes. He wasn´t happy to be remembered of what had happened over there. Sherlock stepped closer to John and then took a better look at the man. He was standing as straight as John had been when he first met him and his eyes were looking directly at John. They had the same sadness in them. Sherlock noticed that the man man was putting all of his weight on his right foot and was remembered of John who had been limping when they had met. Fortunately it was psychosomatic.

"You were there too, weren´t you?" John asked and the man turned his gaze to the floor. He nodded slightly and stepped into the light spot of the flashlights. Sherlock held his breath and John was speechless.

"Lost the foot half a year ago. Landmine." the man whispered.

"I am sorry" John said and the man looked up at him again.

"You know how it works over there. One moment you are chatting with your friends and the next you are driving over a bloody bomb and all hell brakes loose. I was one of the lucky ones." After this statement there was a moment of oppressed silence. Then Sherlock made up his mind to not taking the man - who was no threat anymore - to the police and instead stepped in and said

"What would you say if we would shift our current whereabouts to a more pleasant location to talk."

When they arrived at 221B the sun was already rising over the city. John helped the man upstairs and let him sit on his chair. When John disappeared into the kitchen the man addressed Sherlock

"Why didn´t you bring me to the police? I know that it must be about the young girl from a few weeks ago why you were looking for me."

"Only because I am helping the police doesn´t mean that I am telling them everything." Sherlock answered and glimpsed over to John who was making tea.

"He is really lucky to have a friend like you." the man said. He had bviously noticed Sherlock´s glance.

"When I came home I had nobody and I found no work with the damn foot. At first I lived in a small flat with only one room but soon I couldn´t even afford that." He looked over to John who filled the cups with the now boiling water.

"When I look at him I am happy to see that at least some of us had a happy return".

"Not as much as you think" Sherlock said.

"When I came home I haven´t been that much better off than you." John entered the living room with three cups of tea on a tablet. He had overheard the conversation from the kitchen.

"I met Sherlock not until I was invalided home. We both had problems to afford a flat so we became flatmates and shared the rent." he added with a smile.

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn´t know that you were injured too." It sounded serious and apologetic.

"Never mind" John waved his hand.

They talked a lot about the case after that. It turned out that the man´s name was Alexander Monte and that he had been on the street to beg for money when the young woman had been shot in front of him. He had been reminded of Afghanistan and had screamed "get down" on Pashto. Then he had ran away. Alexander was able to tell Sherlock that it must have been a sniper from a very low position so it had looked like she had been shot by him. Later Sherlock found the exact spot where the killer had been hiding and soon the man – who had been an ex of the victim – was sitting in a cell. John examined Alexander´s foot and phoned a friend of his who was working with prostheses. He also introduced Alexander to some of his old comrades who agreed to look after him and find a better place for him to live.

When Sherlock and John were alone in 221B again, John sank exhausted on the chair. "What a day!" he said and exhaled loudly.

"Why did you never tell me that you can speak Pashto?" Sherlock said and put off his coat and scarf. John blinked his eyes and looked at Sherlock. He didn´t expect that question and was startled for a moment.

"Well, you never asked and I was sure that you already deduced everything important about me" he stated and closed his eyes.

"You didn´t have to help the man, you know? It was not your responsibility to look after him" Sherlock sounded concerned and John opened his eyes again because concern was not one of Sherlock´s specialities.

"I know...but I also know how it feels to get home to nothing. I never told you that but before I met you I was really close to living on the street. I do realise how lucky I was to find flatmate so soon because a few weeks later you would have found me on the streets. Maybe even at one of your crime scenes." John showed a faint smile and stood up.

"I am happy to be able to help Alexander. He deserves it." John walks to the door.

"I am going to bed. You should sleep a bit too. I know that you can stay awake for days but..."

"Yes, I should probably go to bed too. Good night" John was astound by Sherlock´s response but didn´t say anything. Instead he nodded and walked up to his room.

Sherlock looked after him and wondered what details he has yet to find about his friend.


	2. Need for Speed

**Need for Speed**

The killer was escaping. Sherlock and John had been at the crime scene and Sherlock had found the secret door behind the cabinet. They opened it and as soon as the light hit the room behind it a man completely dressed in black clothes jumped out of it and fled the crime scene. He ran out of the building and escaped in the car he had parked a few streets away from the scene. John and Sherlock had followed him while Lestrade pulled out his phone to inform the other officers in the block. A black SUV came speeding by and in the corner of his eyes he saw the killer before the car disappeared around the next corner. He jumped in his car when another car drove by...

Sherlock and John had been directly behind the killer when he opened the car and sped away. The consulting detective lifted his arm and immediately a cab pulled over.

"No way the cabbie will drive fast enough to follow this lunatic" John stated when Sherlock opened the door.

"Yeah, you´re probably right" Sherlock pulled out one of Lestrade´s detective passes and leaned into the open window of the driver´s door.

"Police. This is an emergency. I have to borrow your vehicle" he said sounding urgent and opened the door at the same time. He nearly threw the driver out of his seat and looked at John.

"Well, I am not going to drive this thing" he said stepping around the car and sat on the passenger seat.

"This was your idea" he added when John looked at him in confusion.

"Not quite" John moaned but sat down and started the engine. With nearly burning tires he sped away and Sherlock had to hold the handle to not crash against the window. In the split of a second they were behind the black SUV and Sherlock got a glimpse at the puzzled look on the face of Lestrade who looked after them in shock. John had his eyes fixed on the street and passed a few cars with far too much speed until they were right behind the killer. Sherlock cramped his hands around the handle and looked at John who didn´t even wink.

"Could you at least use the blinker before somebody crashes inside us?" Sherlock brought out before John stepped on the brake because a car right in front of them deflected over their side of the street. Then Sherlock was pressed in his seat once again when John hit the gas pedal. Sherlock´s phone rang. He searched for it in his pocket but got slammed against the door when John passed another car. Sherlock glared at John and then answered his phone.

"Yes, Lestrade" he said without waiting for him to say who he was.

"Where the hell are you? And where did you get the cab?" Lestrade sounded stressed and pissed off. Sherlock gave him their direction and soon John and Sherlock heard the sound of sirens from everywhere around them. The police surrounded the whole area. John noticed the police car coming from the street ahead before the killer did.

"Watch it!" John shouted and Sherlock had only enough time to drop his phone and hold on even tighter. John hit the brakes and whirled the wheel around when a loud crack of metal against metal was audible. The car drifted and came to a stop parallel to the police car which had simultaneously done the same move. Everything went so fast that Sherlock didn´t know what had happened exactly. The killer must have seen the car too late and hadn´t been able to stop his car. The black SUV had hit it which explains the crack from before and flew through the air using the police car as ramp. Unfortunately the car turned slightly in mid air and when it hit the ground it rolled over at least three times. When John and Sherlock exited the cab some police officers were already taking care of the slightly injured killer. Soon he was sitting in handcuffs on the back seat of another car.

Sherlock was happy to have solid ground under his feet again and swore to himself to never let John drive a car ever again.

"What the hell did you do?" Lestrade asked pissed when he arrived at the scene (five minutes later).

"What a mess!" he looked around and saw the smashed SUV, the police car with the broken grill and the cab with steaming tires. The driver of the grill-less police car approached them and said

"That was a hell of a show, Sir. You should have seen the cab here! If this man hadn´t reacted that quickly then I wouldn´t be standing here."

"What do you mean? If they hadn´t been here then nothing of this would have happened" Lestrade gestured around. John took a look himself and noticed that Sherlock locked a little bit pale when he passed his figure.

"Well Sir, the suspect came directly towards me with full speed. The cab passed the black car and pushed the SUV to the side..." the man made some moves with his hands as if he was a kid playing airplanes. "...so that it hit only the right side of my car. If he hadn´t done that then we would need at least two ambulances." he finished, looked at John and nodded. John nodded back and Lestrade looked from one to the other. Then he looked at Sherlock and frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Sherlock looked at him, his head still spinning a little bit.

"Yeah, I´m fine... Where did you learn to drive like that?" he turned to John.

"Afghanistan. When you are in a mine field and have only a car to help yourself with then you drive as fast as the engine can give. I also drove a lot in my home town when I was younger, but that was a long time ago."

"Well I think we have finished here. I would tell you to drive back to give the cabbie his car back but..." Lestrade started.

"the cab is evidence and therefore it has to stay here for the moment. We can take another cab home, thanks" Sherlock completed the sentence – a little bit too fast – and both Lestrade and John had a grin on their faces when Sherlock turned on his heels and walked away from the scene. John followed him.

"But let the cabbie drive this time!" Lestrade shouted after them and the young man from before laughed silently.

 _Absolutely_ Sherlock thought to himself. John grinned.


	3. Piano

Piano

Sherlock and John met Lestrade at the victims house. It was a big white country residence of a quite popular actress.

"The woman is in the living room on the sofa. Follow me" Lestrade said without greeting them. They followed him to wide yellow room with loads and loads of cat pictures on the walls. A big TV screen was standing in one corner of the room and in front of that stood a large couch – the cover made completely out of fur. A blonde woman was lying on it, naked and wet, and a big pool of blood was flooding over the parquet. Sherlock glanced at the woman´s body and then started to scan the surrounding while John knelt next to the couch, careful not to make contact with the blood on the floor, and examined the body.

"She can´t be dead for very long. I would say between 12 and 14 hours ago. She died of exsanguination" John said and looked up to Lestrade who had furrowed his brow in confusion.

"She lost too much blood, Lestrade" Sherlock shouted from the other end of the room. John looked at Sherlock and he looked back at him.

"Sometimes it is helpful to listen to what John says" he then stated and turned around to went on with his examination.

"Yeah, ok. But tell me why did somebody kill her in the shower and dragged her here? And do you know where the hell the blood is coming from?" Lestrade looked a little bit embarrassed by Sherlock´s statement but was truly curious about the lack of a wound.

"Considering the amount of blood, there must be a deep wound that hit a main artery." John bend deeper over the corps and slid his hands over the body where the arteries are lying – from her shoulders to her hands, back to her shoulder, then over her chest to the legs, down to the feet.

"To answer your other question..." Sherlock said coming back to them after finishing his examination "...she was not killed in the shower."

"But she is naked and soaked" Lestrade criticised but Sherlock goes on with his deduction ignoring him.

"She was killed right here on the couch, elsewhere the blood would have been in the sewage. She was fully clothed when she was killed and was probably watching TV. The Television was switched off directly at the device but she never used the power off button, instead she used the remote which is under the cocktail table. There is no fingerprint on the power off button so the killer used gloves." Sherlock wanted to go on put was interrupted by Lestrade.

"WHY THE HELL IS SHE NAKED AND SOAKED IN WATER THEN?" he screamed and John stopped his examination to look at Lestrade in shock.

"Sorry...I..." Lestrade muttered but Sherlock went on

"The killer was clever. He knew that there must be evidence on the body and the cloth which would identify him as the murderer so he took her cloth of and washed her body with a cloth from the kitchen. I just took a quick look at the kitchen through the door but there are cloths at every hook except on one. He took the cloth and her clothes with him and left." When Sherlock was finished Lestrade´s eyes widened and he finally understood what had happened. But one thing was still odd.

"And what about the..." he was going to ask for the wound but the answer came before he could finish the question.

"Found it!" John said triumphantly. He had both his hands behind the woman´s neck and held her head slightly into the air. He nodded to both men to come closer and take a look.

"Here, right between her vertebra and her head is a small but deep wound. It must have been from a long and sharp object, probably a knife or a paper knife. It cut through the outer and internal carotid artery." he explained.

"How could we have missed that" Now Lestrade was really embarrassed and was expecting Sherlock to say something to rub salt into the wound. But instead Sherlock kept silent and looked up at the ceiling.

"What is it?" John - who had noticed Sherlock´s unusual silence too - asked and looked up at theflowered ceiling.

"The killer was clever but he forgot one simple thing. This is a big house full of expensive goods and owned by a famous woman. Of course she would have surveillance in her own house" Sherlock said and lowered his look.

"There is no surveillance in this house" the detective stated and Sherlock laughed.

"And why is there a lens in the third flower of the second row?" Lestrade looked up and indeed there was something reflecting in the middle of said flower.

"There must be a computer somewhere in this house where all the data is saved. We have to find it" Sherlock said looking around. John stood up from where he was kneeling and went to the corridor. The other men followed.

"Ok, Lestrade you look around down here, Sherlock you go up to the first floor while I go down to the basement." John started going down the steps and Sherlock and Lestrade looked at each other confused by John´s command that sounded somehow military. Then they both hiked their shoulders and went their way.

When John reached the basement it wasdark. It took a while until he finally found the light switch. The corridor was flooded with light and John was blinded for a second. In front of him was a wide hallway with two doors to each side. He opened the first door on the left and found himself in some kind of equipment room. Behind the next door was a big tank - it was the heating. He left the room again with dry eyes from the bad air condition in there. He approached the first door on the right side and frowned. It was full of old stuff that looked like it was in the family´s possession over many generations. There was an old wooden rockinghorse, a floor clock which hasn´t ticked for a very long time, old cupboards with dishes. In the middle of the room was something big hidden under a dust sheet that must have been white a long time ago. John approached the big something and with one swing lifted the sheet from it. He had to close his eyes because of the dust his action whirled in the air and when he opened them again there was a beautiful old piano with a small stool in front of him. Johns eyes widened. He slowly circled the instrument sliding one hand over the wooden lid. The he stopped and thought for a moment. A desire ran through his whole body that directed him to the front of the piano. He sat down on the stool and stretched his fingers.

When Sherlock arrived on the first floor he found himself in a hallway – very similar to the hallway John approached at the same moment – and went through the first door on his right side targeting the room above the living room. He found what he was looking for. As he was expecting, the camera from the ceiling was not one of the newest and therefore had to be connected to another device via wires. In one corner of the room he was now standing in a big black wire came from the ground and went up to the ceiling where it entered the room on the left. Sherlock went to that room and found that the wire came out of the wall and ended up in a cupboard. The cupboard was locked with a padlock. Sherlock grinned. He fished a leather case out of his coat and then picked the lock with one of his picklocks. Behind the doors of the cupboard were more wires and a computer. It took Sherlock seconds to find the right password – catloverforever – and after a few more moments he had the recording of the murder. The killer had been dumb enough to enter the house without covering his face. It will be easy for the police to find out who this man is and arrest him. Sherlock opened some live streams from other cameras and found out that Lestrade was in the kitchen looking under the sink – great idea Lestrade – and that John just entered the first door on the right side of the basement hallway. He closed the cupboard and walked down the stairs.

"I found it. First floor, second door on the right side. The killer didn´t wear a mask so it will be easy for you to find him" Sherlock said after entering the kitchen. Lestrade – who was still looking under the sink – hit his head against the drainpipe to the sudden sound. He moaned and his head appeared.

"Great, I will call the tech guys to get all the material" he mumbled and fished out his phone while holding one hand to his head. Sherlock left the room again without another word and the detective rolled his eyes.

Sherlock arrived at the basement hallway seconds later and was going to run straight to the first door on the right side where he last saw John on the tape when he heard silent music. It was the sound of a piano which was beautifully played and it got louder and louder the closer he got to the door. Sherlock knew the composition. It was _River flows in you_ and was played so beautifully that Sherlock caught himself standing at the closed door listening excitedly to the sounds. He had never heard this piece played so fluently and so harmonically before. He quietly opened the door and entered the room without making a noise to not interrupt the playing. His eyes widened when he saw the man sitting in front of the old piano, moving his whole body in the rhythm.

John has closed his eyes at some point in his play and does not note anything around him. The old musical peace is his favourite and his whole body is taken in by it. He finished the masterpiece with elegance and opened his eyes again. He jumped when he suddenly heard a deep voice behind him.

"That was amazing" John turned around and saw Sherlock leaning against the door frame. He immediately jumped up from the stool to put some distance between him and the instrument – it is a reflex because there is no way that Sherlock hadn´t noticed that he was playing.

"Ehm...I..I just.." John stammered. He closed his eyes looked away from Sherlock and then turns his gaze back to him. He could have sworn that Sherlock just blinked his eyes several times to get rid of tears that had started t fill them.

"When did you learn that?" Sherlock asked looking directly at John.

"Ehm...my mom played the piano when I was a kid. It was standing in the living room and I used to play with it when I was young. She taught me some pieces when I got older" John answered shyly.

"Why have I not known about it?" Sherlock asked – mostly to himself.

"Well I think it never came up. I thought you maybe deduced it at some point but I never know what you know and what you don´t" John said with a friendly smile.

"SHERLOCK...JOHN...ARE YOU DOWN THERE" Lestrade´s voice echoed through the hallway. John and Sherlock looked at each other.  
"Did you find the device?" John asked and Sherlock nodded.

"IF YOU DON`T WANT TO BE TRAPPED HERE THEN YOU SHOULD COME UP. WE ARE LEAVING NOW" John turned around and covered the piano with the sheet, somehow sad that he would not get to play it again. He left the house together with Sherlock.

"We should play something together someday" Sherlock simply stated when they walked through the entrance door. John just smiled.


	4. Military Decoration

Military Decoration

Sherlock is able to deduce a lot about a person just by looking at their sleeves, thumbs or the lower part of their pant legs. Most of the time the data he gets is enough to classify the subject and he can go on without learning about irrelevant data that he would eventually delete on the first occasion. But this does not apply for John. John is his big exception because after all this time he still does not know everything about John. Sherlock knows that there is much more to the doctor than the eye sees. Underneath his warm jumpers John is hiding a lot which is hard to figure out. Nobody without a back-story would react that calmly in situations like the ones John found himself in because of Sherlock´s cases. Sherlock was afraid that John would leave Bakerstreet after getting kidnapped or shot at but John stayed. He was happy about that but it made him wonder what John´s story might be. Yes of course John was a soldier but that didn´t prepare him for the things they did together.

Sherlock does not want John to know but he is secretly collecting all the data he can get about John and he looks at every detail that he can get. He found out a lot about John but he is still not satisfied. The way John likes his tea, his every day routine, his posture when he is angry or sad, the pitch of is voice when he is furious about something are all things he finds interesting but they don´t help him find out the deeper secrets of his room mate. So he watches John carefully and even followed him sometimes when he was extremely bored between cases but John never did something that broke ranks.

Sherlock is deeply in his thoughts, sitting at his usual spot eyes closed and both hands folded together under his chin while John reads today´s newspaper.

"No new case for you, mmhh?" John says after closing the papers and setting them on the table. No responses from the couch across the room.

"Sherlock?" John furrows his brows. Usually Sherlock is nerve-wrecking when he is not on a case. He would then run in circles, jump on the furniture and ask him every few minutes if Lestrade had gotten in contact because of a new case. But nothing like that happened. "Nah, but I have a task on my own" Sherlock said without opening his eyes. _Well at least he responded_ John thinks to himself. "What kind of task?" No answer. _And there he goes._ John rolls his eyes over his room mate´s stoicism and stands up. "I´m gonna get some groceries since you nearly destroyed half the kitchen with your last experiment. You need something?" No answer. _Fine._ John inhaled loudly, put on his jacket and took an umbrella with him because it was drizzling. "Alright, see you later." With that John opened the door, took one last look at the consulting detective who was still motionless and deep in his thoughts and closed the door behind him with a sight.

Sherlock stayed in his posture until he heard the front door being opened and closed again. He immediately jumped up and moved to the window, watching John open his umbrella and then moving across the street in the direction of the next grocery store. John needed approximately 1.23 hours to go to the store, buy what Sherlock destroyed by accident (well, seemingly by accident) and then come back to Bakerstreet. That meant that Sherlock had from now on counting nearly an hour and a half time to search for answers in John´s room. He never entered John´s room before without his consent and therefore he had had no occasion to look in places a person would usually store important things of deeper meaning like the drawers for example. The only thing he was able to see was how neat and clean John´s room was. His bed was always without any wrinkles and on top of it were folded clothes for the next day. Sherlock knows that John wouldn´t want him to search his stuff and Sherlock would have respected his friend´s privacy but he was longing for answers. There must be something that could clear the fog in Sherlock´s mind when it comes to John. He needs to know...

Sherlock was magically drawn to the door of John´s room and his hands actually tremble when he pushes the door handle down and slowly opens the room. John´s room is very clean as usual and Sherlock is again surprised how everything in the room is in order. _Obviously old habits from his military service._ Sherlock quietly steps to the cabinet and reaches for the handle but freezes mid air. _Do I really want to do this? John wouldn´t be pleased if he found out. But I need to know..._ Sherlock opens the biggest door and finds a big collection of jumpers of every from and colour. There is even the overly ugly one that John got from Mrs. Hudson last Christmas. Sherlock closes the door and kneels down to open the lower drawer. _Socks._ This isn´t going as Sherlock had pictured when he first planned to search the room. He starts turning around to look in the drawer next to John´s bed where he obviously stashes his gun because it is the nearest to him when he goes to sleep which is a reflex he does not have any control over. But something bothers the detective so he turns to the cabinet again. He opens the lower drawer again and finds what was bugging. From outside the drawer looks bigger than from the inside which means...Sherlock throws some socks through the air getting exited about he is going to find any second now. And there it is, a strap with which he opens the false bottom of the drawer. _Jackpot_ Sherlock thinks while lifting the wooden board, revealing an old rusty metal box which had been red a long time ago.

Sherlock sits down on the bed and puts the box right next to him. His eyes widen with excitement while he slowly opens the lid. The first thing that catches his eye are a bunch of old yellowed pictures showing John at different ages, sometimes with family members (the resemblance is very obvious) and sometimes with friends. The most interesting one for Sherlock is the picture of John in his uniform standing shoulder to shoulder with five other soldiers, a bright smile on everybody´s face. It must have been a picture from the trainings camp before the young soldiers were send into war. Sherlock wondered how many of the men were still alive. He lays the pictures beside him and concentrates his attention on the other items in the box. There is some kind of stuffed animal which was obviously hand made by someone who had no idea what he was doing (maybe it was a gift by Harry) and the worn out parts of the fabric shows that it must have been cuddled a lot. Sherlock also finds some postcards and letters written by old school friends of John, telling him about their great weekend in Italy, inviting him to their marriages or enthusing about the dream job they just got. Under these letters Sherlock finds John´s dog tags. He holds them in his hands for a while before carefully placing them next to the other items. Now the box is nearly empty. There is only something left that looks like an old stained cloth but it looks like something is wrapped inside it. The detective lifts the bundle up and unfolds the cloth. Something shiny comes to light and Sherlock does not trust his eyes. In his hands he sees a medal but not just any medal. A bronze cross patée bearing the crown of Saint Edward surmounted by a lion and the inscription "IN VALOUR", hanging on a crimson ribbon.

 _The Victoria Cross?! This can´t be real._ Sherlock carefully turned the cross in his hands and caught his breath when he read the inscription on the back.

Capt. John Hamish Watson

Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers

20th May 1989

 _Oh my..._

Sherlock Holmes is at a loss of words and that means something. It´s a wonder that he doesn´t forget how to breath at this point. He wonders what may have happened on the 20th of May in 1989. _Was that when he was shot?_

"So this is the great task you talked about before." Sherlock jumps and nearly kicks the box over the bed´s edge. John stands in the door frame watching him closely and Sherlock brakes eye contact, feeling guilty (yes exactly, Sherlock _feels guilty_ ) about going through John´s stuff. "John...I´m sorry...I was just...curious" Sherlock stumbles over his own words while putting everything he spread over the bed back into the box, not realizing that he keeps the medal in his hand.

"Just curious, mhhh?" If Sherlock would look up instead of hastily apologising and making a mess while trying to fit everything in the small box he would see a smile on John´s face. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed and grinning while Sherlock goes head over heals trying to fix his mess and still shocked about his discovery. He enjoys seeing Sherlock like this for a change but he decides to put him out of his misery.

"I wondered how long it would take you to finally find it." Sherlock doesn´t understand the full meaning of what he just said at first but then he stops and looks at John in disbelieve.

"What?"

"Well, of course I thought you would find this earlier." Sherlock stares at John so he continues "I know you long enough now to figure that you would probably feel the urge to find out even my best hidden secrets. Don´t think I didn´t notice how you observed my every movement over the past few weeks." Sherlock looks John in the eyes and then drops his gaze to his hands in which he is still holding the Victoria Cross with John´s name engraved on the back. Sherlock lifts his gaze in question.

"I know what you want to know but it is all classified. If you want to know what happened in 1989 you have to either ask your brother or wait until 2029 when it´s officially allowed to talk about it." Sherlock´s expression changes to something John would describe as pouting. John smiles. _You can´t always get what you want, my friend._

Realizing that John was actually smiling a thought runs through Sherlock´s mind.

"So you´re not mad?" John laughs loudly this time. Sherlock sounds just like a little kid after braking its mother´s favourite vase.

"No, I´m not mad. I am not allowed to talk about what happened but I am sure that you will find a way to figure at least parts of it out. I like the idea to finally having someone to talk to." Sherlock´s eyes glistened with joy.

"Would you now please leave my room, I have to clean up the mess you made." Sherlock jumps up, gently lays the medal down on the bed and quickly exits the room. When John finally is alone in his room he smiles and shakes his head. _He is like a 3-year-old on a sugar rush._ He takes up the cross and holds it in his hands for a while.

 _I bet my favourite jumper that Sherlock is texting Microft right now._ He smiles.

The End

For Jewelie-chan. A little late but I gave my best. Hope you enjoy it.


	5. Scar

Scar

When John had told Sherlock that he had actually been shot in Afghanistan Sherlock thought that it must have been a small wound that had made some damage in John´s shoulder but not much according to John´s posture and his mobility. He did not think about it any more until he accidentally bumped into John who was on his way from the bathroom to his own room after a shower. He was only wearing a towel around his waist.

"Sherlock!" he said in surprise and partially covered himself behind the open door of his room.

"Oh...sorry John" Sherlock babbled and turned slightly around but could not stop himself from looking at the rough scar tissue that stood out on John´s white and shiny skin. It was bigger than he thought and he had to put much effort into holding himself back from examining it from a closer distance. Even from where he stood now he was able to see that the shot was not as non-fatal as he had thought. When John noticed that Sherlock was looking at the spot where his scar was hidden behind the wood of the door he took in a deep breath.

"You want to see it don´t you?" he asked still hiding himself behind the door only looking around it with his head.

"...and you won´t stop nagging until you had been able to examine it." he concluded. Sherlock put on an innocent smile but John knew he was right.

"God, damn it...fine, go ahead" he said and came out of his hiding place. Sherlock who knew how sensitive John was about his scar stepped in front of him and bend down to have a better look at the scar. He squinted his eyes a bit to sharpen his focus. The scar at least 4 by 4 cm big and only an inch above his clavicle. He was able to see the dots where the wound had been stitched together. It was the wound where the bullet must have left John´s body.

"Could you turn around, please?" he asked and John was surprised. It was not really Sherlock´s normal behaviour to ask for anything he wanted. He could have sworn that Sherlock´s voice even sounded pleading. He nodded and turned around. Now Sherlock took a look at the scar where the bullet had hit John in the first place. It was smaller than the other one but the tissue looked more uneven and went deep into the flesh. Sherlock lifted his right hand and touched the scar slightly. John flinched immediately and Sherlock took his hand away in the split of a second.

"Sorry" he said and stepped one step away from John.

"No it´s fine...it just startled me" John said turning around to face Sherlock.

"And what do you deduce about it?" he asked then.

"Well, according to the extent of the wound I suggest that you have been shot by a sniper with a big calibre while you were in the field. The angle points out that you must have been bending over something or someone. I assume that it was the latter. The wound had made some damage but that damage was expanded because you did move after you got hit. The movement ripped the wound open even further which explains the rather big damage on the skin itself. You were probably crouching over a wounded soldier when it happened and after you overcame the wave of pain directly after the shot you continued treating your patient instead of patching up yourself. That sounds like something you would do. The adrenaline helped you with the pain but it must have been really painful afterwards. Furthermore I deduce that the wound got infected because it had been reopened to clean the wound properly which you can see from the stitches. There are two lines of stitches . The first one is irregular and the person who did it had shaking hands which leads to the conclusion that it was made on the field and was just a makeshift. The second one was made by a professional." Sherlock had ended his deductions and looked up. Well...he didn´t really look up because his friend was smaller than him by at least one head but his focus wandered from the scar on John´s shoulder up to his eyes.

"Did I get it right?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, as always" John said with a faint smile. Then he turned around and was going to enter his room when he heard Sherlock behind him.

"Who was he?...I mean the soldier" he asked and John turned around once again surprised by Sherlock´s concern.

"Matthew Whiner. I didn´t know him very well. We played cards once or twice." he answered remembering the face and the Scottish accent.

"Did he make it?" Sherlock whispered but John heard him very clearly.

"Yes, he lives in Manchester now. He got married and has two kids." John smiled and entered his room. He really wanted to put on some clothes before talking to Sherlock again. It was rare that Sherlock was showing concern of any kind thou and it was feeling good to know that he did so in front of him.

Sherlock went back to the living room, not remembering what he wanted to do when he bumped into John before. He was happy to have a friend like John and after getting to know this detail about him he was even happier about it. John had made a big sacrifice in order to safe a life and must have been in horrible pain. He was also very strong and he never showed any sign of favouring his right shoulder despite the fact that a wound with this extent must at least ache from time to time, for example in cold and rainy weather.

He told himself to give John more credit in the future and to watch out for him as he certainly does for him, too.

Thanks for reading. Have a nice day:)

P.S. I´m still open for new ideas:D


	6. Father

Father

It was a day like any other day. Well, not any other day of a regular human being. It was a normal day for the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes and his best friend and room mate Dr. John Watson. It started with Lestrade bursting through the door into the living room while John and Sherlock were having a cup of tea.

"This is not an office you can just storm into!" came the agitated voice of Mrs. Hudson from downstairs. After Lestrade was compelled to clean his shoes on the doormat outside, he entered the living room again, this time a little bit more relaxed. Sherlock and John had finished their tea and John overheard the conversation from the kitchen where he cleaned the used cups. They had a new case. A man had been murdered in his own apartment with the door closed from the inside. He had been shot right between the eyes but nobody in the house had heard any shot being fired. Sherlock and John followed the DI to the crime scene and soon Sherlock found out how the murderer did it. John found out that the bullet must have flown a long distance before hitting the target and he also identified the murder weapon as a sniper rifle. According to the posture of the corps and the angle of the wound, the man had been standing in front of the window and the shot came from the house directly across. Sherlock used a laser pointer to find the exact window where the murderer must have been when he shot. The DNA they found on a cigar stump in that exact apartment in the house across was already in the data base of the police. The sniper was already known and luckily enough Lestrade knew the men from a former case.

"Thanks for your help guys. I know the man and I also know where he is normally around. I know some of his friends and I will do some digging. It won´t be long before I find him. I can take it from here" the Detective escorted them outside.

"Well, if you don´t you know where to find me" Sherlock turned around to walk home but something was wrong.

"John..?" John was still standing next to Lestrade furrowing his brows. Suddenly he looked up and it seemed as if he saw something because in an instant he was in action.

"Get down!" he screamed and pushed against the DI until they both were laying on the ground behind a parked car. Sherlock whose reflexes were quite extraordinary covered himself behind a pillar in the fraction of a second. While all the men were in action a silent air draft could be heard.

"What the hell..." Lestrade started to protest when another air draft was audible and shortly after that one of the windows of the car shattered into a million peaces.

"Stay down, damn it" John commanded but his voice wasn´t as steady as it usually was when they were in situations like this. And they were in similar situations all the time. But Sherlock had no time to think about that. He had to find the sniper. He fished his cell phone out of his pocked and used it as a mirror to locate the shooter while Lestrade called for backup. The suspect tried to flee but the officers got him on his way down.

A few minutes later the murderer was in handcuffs as usual. Sherlock walked over to the car when Lestrade came up from his ducking position.

"That was really close. Thanks John for...John?!" Lestrade had turned around to thank John for saving his life but found that the former soldier wasn´t standing behind him but was still sitting on the ground leaning against the car. Sherlock noticed the sudden change in the detective´s voice and came running around the corner of the car to find John smiling weakly at him.

"There is a doctor present...but I guess you...should call an ambulance" he said and it was only when John looked down on his hands that Sherlock noticed the blood they were covered in.

"Call an ambulance! Now!" Lestrade screamed at the next policemen that were standing a few meters across the street. Sherlock knelt down next to John with eyes wide open.

"Tell me what to do" he simply said.

"What?" John was confused for a moment by Sherlock´s sudden will to help.

"You are a doctor so you know what to do in this particular situation. But you are also the patient so you can´t do everything yourself. So, tell me what I have to do" John needed a few more seconds but then he snapped back into his doctor mode and Sherlock did what he could. When the ambulance finally arrived he had nearly stopped the bleeding and John was still conscious when they brought him to the hospital. Sherlock followed John wherever they brought him but at some point a nurse stopped him and since then he had been sitting in this dumb waiting area while nobody was willing to tell him what was going on.

"Any news?" Sherlock nearly jumped when the door opened and Lestrade came in.

"He´s still in surgery."

So they waited...and waited...and waited.

When John´s doctor finally came into the waiting area both men jumped.

"How is he?"

"You are John´s next of kin I guess then" the doctor took a look at both men and raised his brows in question.

"Well not exactly...I´m Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard and this is Sherlock Holmes...my...consultant. We are his friends"

"Enough of the formalities! How is he?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Your friend´s wound hasn´t been very serious. The bullet missed all the important organs and we had no complications during surgery. Doctor Watson is now in recovery. We will keep him here for a few days to make sure everything heals in order"

"Can we see him?" Sherlock was relieved that everything was going to be alright but he needed to be sure that his friend was okay.

"Normally we woulnd´t allow it but in this case I can turn a blind eye. Follow me, please." The doctor leaded them through the long hallways to a small bright room with a big bed in the middle. John had his eyes closed and his breathing was deep and even. He was connected to a monitor that showed his regular heart beat. The minute Sherlock entered the room he instantly relaxed.

"You can stay here if you want but your friend won´t be awake in the next few hours" Sherlock took the chair from the corner and sat down next to the bed while Lestrade stood on the other side of the bed. The doctor turned around to leave but stopped before he arrived at the door and turned around once again.

"Detective Lestrade, Mr. Holmes, can I ask you a question?" Sherlock and the DI looked up at him but the doctor didn´t get anymore of a reaction from both men so he continued.

"When we walked here I looked in Dr. Watson´s papers and found that there was nobody listed as his next of kin. Do you have an idea who we should inform about your friend´s current state by any chance?" Lestrade took a questioning look at Sherlock who himself was now deep in thoughts.

"No I can´t think about anyone at the moment. But I´ll tell you when I can think of someone" he therefore answered for the both of them.

"That would be great, thanks" The doctor disappeared through the door and shortly after Lestrade had to leave too, to finish the stack of paper work that was waiting for him on his desk.

Sherlock sat cross-legged in the chair next to John with both hands folded under his chin and was still thinking about what the doctor asked before. _John´s next of kin. Who would John want to be informed when something like this happened to him. He had a few girlfriends but none of them was really important to him and not a single one stayed longer than a month. Family. Why don´t I know more about his family. Well, of course I know about Harry but I never met anyone of the Watson´s and he never mentioned a family celebration or meeting his family over the holidays. He wouldn´t want Harry to know when he was sick. The times he called her decreased and when he was on the phone with her he always sounded stressed. Probably because of her alcohol problem. So Harry is not the one to be called. John never talked about cousins, uncles and aunts but what about his parents? Are they still alive? Did John ever mention his parents? The old watch he´s hiding in the top drawer next to his bed surely was his father´s at some point but that doesn´t mean that he´s dead. But he is hiding the watch so what does that mean? John is blaming himself for something...something involving his father. He never meets anyone from his family. One possibility is that there is not much left of it but even then John is too kind to not visit the remaining members of his family. Another possibility is that something happened in the past that makes it hard for him to meet family members because he blames himself or because the others blame him for it, or even both. But what could have happened that John, the kindest and most sympathetic person I know, would avoid his own family..._

Sherlock didn´t move an inch that night. He was deep in thoughts when the sun sank, when the moon wandered over the dark sky and finally when the sun rose again. He sat there with closed eyes and the nurses that checked in from time to time thought he was either sleep or meditating. Finally Sherlock came to the conclusion that he had not enough data to solve the case of John Watson. So he opened his eyes, drank some tea the nurses brought him and waited for his friend to wake up.

After an additional hour John stirred in his sleep. When he slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings he found himself closely watched by his friend who was sitting right next to him. Sherlock was wearing the exact same things from the day before, not even noticing the blood stains on his sleeves.

"You look terrible" he said noticing the circles under Sherlock´s eyes.

"Says the man who was shot only a few hours ago" Sherlock countered. He was still watching John closely, the question he wanted to ask him for hours burning on his lips but he didn´t say a word because he knew John was tired.

"What is it?" Of course John noticed the look on Sherlock´s face.

"I wanted to wait until you feel better.."

"I feel great...What is it?" John is interested in what could possibly make Sherlock so uncomfortable.

"When you were asleep the doctor told us you had nobody listed as your next of kin." John looked down at his hands and he fumbled with the bedcover.

"He asked if we knew anyone who would want to be informed...Is there anybody who would?"

"So that´s the reason why you didn´t sleep last night...you went through every conversation we ever had in your head and tried to figure out what is going on with my family..." John said to his hands.

"What happened that you avoid them so much? It has something to do with your father doesn´t it. There must have been a reason that Harry started drinking. I guess she started when you went away and joint the army. When you were then forced away she was left behind with your parents...You have an old watch that was your father´s once. You never used it so the marks are from your father. There are a lot of scratches all over the lid where you have to open the watch in order to change the batteries. You have to be careful and skilful to open the lid without scratching the metal but your father opened it with force every time and it didn´t matter to him that he thereby destroyed the beauty of that watch. He was a brutal and rough man and according to the watch he always has been that way. So he was mean when you were kids and I guess he got mad very easily." John felt sick. He didn´t lift his eyes at Sherlock because he feared that tears would roll down his cheeks.

"You never talk about your family and your father is the only one I could think of to be the reason for it but I don´t know enough to..."

"Stop" John had said that very quietly but with enough force to silence Sherlock immediately. Finally John glanced up at Sherlock and found an expression he didn´t know Sherlock was able to make. Deep concern.

"If you wanted to know about my family, why didn´t you just ask?"

"Well, because..."

"You don´t like to ask for things. You rather brood over it for hours and hours until you finally find out something you could have known in a few minutes just by asking" Now it was Sherlock´s turn to look at his hands.

"You are right, I don´t like to talk about my family very much. You know about Harry and you know about her alcohol problem. You now also know that my father was not the ideal father figure. But you don´t know the half of it." John knew he would one day have to tell somebody this story but he never saw it coming that this somebody would be Sherlock Holmes. He took a deep breath.

"My father was, as you said it, brutal. He would punish us for everything we did wrong. Sometimes he just did it for fun when he was drunk. I took a lot beatings to protect my sister and my mother but at some point I couldn´t do it anymore. I had to leave or I would be stuck there forever. Harry wasn´t so lucky. She could find the courage to just leave home behind so she stayed and it destroyed her. I was in trainings camp when I got the message that my mother was in the hospital so I got a few days off to visit her. The moment I entered the hospital room I knew it was him. She had been beaten really hard, had bruised ribs and a swollen eye. It took some time but after a while I found out that she had met a friend after work and had come home an hours later as normally. That was his reason to beat her nearly to death. Harry was already drinking at the time so I was the only to stand up against him so I confronted him at home. I only had to tell him to let my mother alone and he attacked me. But this time I was trained enough to fight back. I didn´t know that he had a gun...everything went so fast...one second we were fighting for the gun and the next there is a loud bang and he lies bleeding on the floor. I tried to stop the bleeding and called an ambulance but it was too late. He died before the medics came.." Sherlock hadn´t moved while John was telling him this. He knew some parts of this story through his deductions but to hear it directly from John made it more intense and he felt truly sorry for his friend.

"It was an accident and the police knew my father from bar fights and other stuff so I could walk away from it without bigger problems. My mother died soon after this accident, Harry´s drinking problem got even worse and I avoided any contact with family members after that" Sherlock wanted to say something. _But what? What do you say after hearing a story like that?_

"I..." in this moment the door was opened and the doctor came in. Sherlock threw an apologetic look at John.

"Ah, Dr. Watson, you are awake. How do you feel?" After the doctor checked John´s vitals and heard that he was feeling okay despite the fact that he was shot the other day he turned around to the door but then again remembered the question of the next of kin.

"Uhmm...I already asked Mr. Holmes here but I would like to ask you now in person. We need to have somebody listed as your next of kin. So who do you want to be called first when something happens in the future? " John´s look turned very sad and it hurt Sherlock to see is friend like that. When he noticed that John couldn´t think of anyone he looked him directly in the eyes and said without blinking:

"The name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes"

* * *

I needed a long time to get this together but I think it turned out okay.

Hope you liked it! I´m still open for new ideas if anybody wants a special story:D


	7. Artist

Artist

John Watson sits in his armchair reading the newspaper while a hot cup of tea is steaming little white clouds into the air right next to him. He lifts up his head to look outside the window at the slowly rising sun. It promisses to be a beautiful summer day with a clear sky. The doctor hears a door opening and lets his eyes wander to the sounds direction. A very sleepy Sherlock marches through the living room only wearing his dark gown. Without saying a word he stomps into the kitchen and seconds later John hears glass smaching together. The kitchen looks as if a mad scientist had lived in there for month without leaving and in some way that is true. There had not been a case for some time and Sherlock got rather frustrated. At some point he started some experiments. John does not know what their purpose is but he thinks it has something to do with how to make a perfectly fine apartment unrecognizable in under ten seconds.

„And a very good morning to you too" John says sarcastically. Something very similar to a growl comes from the kitchen. John smiles and starts reading the paper again when someone bursts through the door. Usually any person would have jump at something like that or even get a heart attack from it but John does not even lift his eyes up from the paper.

„Good morning Lestrade" he says cheerfully.

„Oh...yes...good morning" Lestrade bubbles lookin around in the small room.

„He is in the kitchen...or should I say in the lab?" The DI turns around the corner and lifts an eyebrow at what he sees.

„Ehm, Sherlock?" he asks figuring that the consulting detective did not notice him. Sherlock lifts his head and in an instant his eyes start shining.

„Ah, Lestrade! Please tell me you are here because something horribly happened. Murder? Kidnapping? Did someone hide explosives around the city?" he asks getting more and more excited. Lestrade looks bewildered and shakes his head at the consultant.

„No...not this time. But we could still use your help. You see, there have been some robberies and..." Sherlocks eyes turn bored and he starts clattering with the glasses and bottles again. Lestrade has to nearly scream over the noise.

„...and we could not get a good description of him because he always wears some kind of mask." the DI stops to take a breath.

„Oh wonder, why would a robber wear a mask if he did nothing wrong...oh wait" Sherlock says ironically and turns to Lestrade.

„Is the agency so bad at its job that you cant even catch the little fishs any more?" he asks and gets a reproachful look from his room mate who is still sitting in the living room with the paper folded in his lap. This look stops Sherlock only slightly but enough to not through more insults at the DI though.

„We dont have any bigger cases at the moment, Sherlock. And I thought you might want to have something to do so I guessed..."

„I am not a child! I dont need to be entertained! Especially not with something so trivial" Holmes interrupts him. In the living room John shakes his head and throws Lestrade an apologetic look.

„Fine..." the DI says opening the door.

„...if you change your mind let me know" Lestrade disappears and John is left with a very bored and annoying Sherlock.

„You could at least think about it" another growl comes from the kitchen.

„I read about it in the paper. Over the last two weeks the robber broke into 5 houses and in two cases the neighbors or the residents actually saw a person wearing a ski mask." The clattering in the kitchen gets loader and John has to shout.

„He never took anything like jewelry...he only took one thing from each house...A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT." John gives up realizing that Sherlock does not listen to him and with a sight he stands up to go for a walk as he always does when Sherlock is unreasonable...quite a lot therfore. He walks through the parks and coincidently meets some old friends from college. He spends the day with them catching up on their life. It is late when he comes back home and Sherlock already went to bed. Stepping into the living room he stumbles over a bottle that must have fallen down from the table in the kitchen and rolled down to the living room. _I dont really want to know how the kitchen looks right now. Its late, I will have to clean that up tomorrow._ With a sight he makes his way to the bathroom and gets himself ready for bed. Upon entering his room he lets himself sink down on the bed and falls asleep immediatley after such a long day.

In the middle of the night John wakes from a noise in the living room. A clatter and then something rolling over the wooden floor. _The bottle!_ Taking a wild guess he figures that it is not Sherlock sleep walking but that something else must be going on. As silent as possible he reaches for the gun in his drawer, stands up and opens his door. Peeking around the corner he notices Sherlock standing in his own rooms door frame. Upon seeing John ,gun in hand, the consulting detective lifts a finger to his lips. _Yeah, no shit Sherlock_ Watson thinks and silently follows his friend who slowly makes his way to the living room. In the soft light of the street lamps they can make out a person walking through the room looking for something. At one point the robber stops abruptly and holds up something in the light. _Sherlocks violin!_ John looks to his friend and notices the most angry expression he has ever seen on his face.

Without waiting any longer Sherlock paces into the room wondrously not falling over anything and stops in front of the apartments only exit. He switches the light on and for a moment John is blended by brightness.

„You broke into the wrong house my friend" Sherlock says stepping closer to the masked stranger who does not move an inch. Suddenly he spins around, takes a pot from the table and smashes it into the window shattering it into a million pieces. Sherlock runs forward but it is too late. The robber jumps through the window and hits the ground pretty hard loosing his mask on the way. He stands up and limps over to the violin case that fortunately didn´t fall an the asphalt but into some bushes leaving it unharmed. He glances up at Sherlock who is standing in the window and then runs away as fast as he can. Sherlock and John storm down the stairs but they loose the robber around the next corner. Downhearted they return to the flat. Sherlock is pissed and leaves it to John to call Lestrade and tell him what had happened. Only half an hour later the detective inspector rang the doorbell.

„I didnt think that I would see you again this soon" he says unable to hide his good mood. It was about time that Sherlock had to ask for his help for once. Holmes does not even notice his presence though. He is taking a closer look at the broken glass on the floor. John is sitting in his armchair as usual and watches his friend deducing. He looks tired and a little bit unfocused.

„John, are you alright?" Lestrade asks worried. John looks up at him and sights.

„That was my favourite cup" he says looking back at the broken pieces on the ground.

„Ah...my condolences. Since you told me on the phone that you saw the robbers face I took the liberty to bring our phantom draughtsman right away." The detective steps to the side and a young man with very arrogant features enters the room.

„Good day. My name is Dwaine. It would help us really much if you could describe the mans face as detailed as possible. Everything could be important to identify the man" he says taking a notebook out of his backpack and settling down on the couch.

„Well, first of all it was a woman." Without looking up and still rummaging through the room Sherlock starts depicting even the slightest detail of the face he saw for no more than a fraction of a second in the damp light. Lestrades eyes grow wider by the second and some point he starts shaking his head.

„...her eyes were of dark brown color and deeply sunken in. Her nose was slightly pressed to her right side and she had a birthmark in the shape of a half moon next to her left nasal wing..." the words just babble out of Sherlocks mouth. At one point the young man does not move his pencil anymore.

„Why did you stop?" Sherlock asks and steps closer to look over the Dwaines shoulders.

„That does not look like her...at all. Didn´t you listen to what I just said!" he shouts and looks at Lestrade in disbelief.

„Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to draw all that you just said? That is impossible!" the young man exclaims packing his stuff.

„I am out of here. Call me if you find someone who can actually describe the robber properly" he hisses at Lestrade and leaves the room. The detective covers his eyes with one hand.  
„Great, now we have a witness but nobody who can accustom to his description." Lestrade sights and sinks down on the couch closing his eyes.

„Dont worry, Lestrade" John says holding his paper in front of him.

„Here, maybe this will help." Lestrade takes the paper with a confused look on his face.

„What am I supposed to do with that? Look for a new job in the application section?" he says not as sarcastically as he wishes to.

„Turn it around" Watson says confidently and sips at his cup of tea. Lestrade turns the paper around and instantly his eyes grow wide. Sherlock who noticed his reaction steps behind him and takes a look at the paper as well. There was a bigger section without any text and with a pen someone had drawn a perfect depiction of the woman Sherlock had just described. It was skillfully made with different hatchings and the woman seems almost alive. Sherlock looks at John and down to the paper again.

„I didnt know you saw her too" he says noticing all the small details he had seen through the window and admiring the realistic drawing.

„I didnt" John simply states taking another sip. Lestrade stands up and opens the door.

„This is great John. I dont understand how you did it but with this I will guarantee you that we will find her." With that the detective leaves the flat with the paper in his hands.  
„When did you learn how to draw like that?" Sherlock says sitting down opposite to John who notices his friend being miffed about not deducing that earlier. He smiles.

„When I was younger I had a very beautiful picture of my mother when she was a young girl. With the years going by it wore out and turned yellow so I started drawing it from memory. I liked that so much that I started drawing other things like the landscape around our house or Harry playing with the neighbours kids. In medical school I had a big adventage because you actually need to draw a lot there. Bones, veins and so on. When I went to the army I kind of lost sight of it and I never needed it again...until now. I guess it can still be useful sometimes" he finishes his story.

„Indeed...I may be taking you up on that someday" Sherlock implies.

The next day Lestrade came through the door triumphantly holding up the violin case. They had catched the robber after her neighbours had recognized her in the drawing.

„When I showed them your drawing they actually thought it was a picture from the newspaper" he says smiling at John who returns the smile.

„Happy to help" he says sipping tea from his favorite cup holding up a tube of superglue when noticing Lestrades puzzled expression.

* * *

I know its been a long time since I updated this collection but right now I finally have some time to work on it again. This story was requested by Madiline Magnolia.

Please let me know if you liked it and if you have a good idea for the next story I am always open for requests:D Take care!


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